


The Word Is Out

by lumiere42



Series: And I Ran [5]
Category: WKRP in Cincinnati
Genre: Also feat. the Dreaded Nessman Editorial, Assault, Karma - Freeform, Naming things is powerful, Self-Defense, Solidarity, Trauma, and some dead masked mammals (offscreen)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-11-02 10:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20719763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumiere42/pseuds/lumiere42
Summary: Sometimes bad things must be forced into the open. Especially when they show up at your workplace with bad intentions.





	The Word Is Out

"Greetings, fellow babies, it's...nine-fifteen on a frosty Monday morning here at the WKRP studios and nursery, and for our listeners in the Clifton area, be advised that Evergreen Elementary is closed until further notice due to a little...extermination ventilation contamination situation. So for those of you whose kids will be at home all day, here's a little something from the Doctor to lighten your mood - you'll probably be needing it."

The long loping strains of Loudon Wainwright's "Dead Skunk" start filtering into the DJ booth just as the Doppler effect of running footsteps and high-pitched screeching and giggling starts coming up the hall again. Johnny sighs and makes sure the mike is shut off.

He's just about to get up when he hears Venus: "All right, you two, what are you doing?"

Some unintelligible replies in two high-pitched children's voices, and then Venus again: "Okay, this isn't a playground. Junior, _you_ go in _there_, Bunny, _you_ go in _there_."

Sounds of doors opening - the bullpen and Andy's office, if he's hearing it right - and then blessed silence, except for Wainwright croaking about the skunk in your olfactory.

Venus opens the door a moment later. "Hey, John? Why is the station Rugrat Central?"

"Oh, Herb came by - apparently there was a little raccoon infestation problem at their school? And the district decided to fumigate over the three-day weekend, except they didn't take into account that meant a lot of dead raccoons lying around the building for three days."

"Ouch."

"Yep. In the ventilation system, cafeteria, you name it. So the school's closed, Herb has a real important meeting with the Porker's Paradise people this morning, his wife's out of town and he couldn't find a sitter, so - we got guests of the small, loud variety."

Venus perches on the stool against the wall. "Well, I think I got them settled down for now."

"Thanks. Only so much of an eye I could keep on them and still run this. You used to handle a whole classroom full?"

"It's all in being just the right degree of intimidating. You got a kid, you should have some idea."

"Yeah, _kid_. One. Singular. And Laurie outgrew the running-and-screeching age a good twelve years ago. It's been an hour and a half with those two, and I'm already in desperate need of coffee and a good sedative."

"Coffee, we got. You're on your own for the sedative."

"What are you doing in this early?" Wainwright is fading out, and Johnny switches over to the ad tape. A few excruciating seconds of the Red Wigglers jingle escape before he turns it down.

"Covering for Dean later on. He's got midterms this week. Figured I'd need time to pick out some material. Plus Andy wanted to fill me in on some of the promotional stuff for this month."

"I'm covering for Rex myself later."

"Wasn't he supposed to be back last night?"

"His flight got rescheduled. Or at least that's what he told Jennifer on the phone. She swears she heard bar-party-type sounds in the background though, so who knows."

Venus makes a face. "Dunno what we expected. Rex is flakier than a bowl of Raisin Bran."

"But lacking in the same nutritional value."

"Probably true. Say, since Friday was payday? I believe there's a small matter of seventy bucks' worth of repayment?"

"I'll go over to the bank quick as soon as I get a lunch break today. Didn't have time to get much cash over the weekend, I was kinda occupied with something."

"Oh? Would this _something_ happen to be a _someone_, possibly of the female persuasion?"

"If your eyebrows go any higher, Flytrap, they'll crawl right off your head."

"I'm guessing that means a yes."

Johnny sighs. "Yes, but - it wasn't what you're thinking." The ad tape drawls out the last bit of the Shady Hills spot, and he gets up and fires up the vaguely annoying blue-hued stomping of Pink Floyd growling about education. "Can you watch this for a little bit while I get coffee? I've got three long ones set up to play back-to-back, shouldn't be a problem."

"Sure, if you make it seventy-five bucks."

"Would you settle for a bag of Cheetos?"

"Unopened?"

"Well, not _unopened_ as such, but - "

"_Seriously_, Caravella?" Venus gets the same stern look Johnny imagines he must have used with students back in the day, then laughs. "Ah, go on ahead. I've got some time to kill."

"You are a prince among carnivorous plants."

"No, _duke_. The Duke of Funk, or so the good listeners in New Orleans knew me."

"I'm giving you a field promotion."

Venus takes the chair and gives him a mock salute.

The hall is still chilly, even with the heater droning away. Andy's office door is open, and Bunny is sitting at the desk, coloring something.

The bullpen isn't much warmer. Les's teletype has started clacking, the coffeemaker is slurping and wheezing its way through a brew, and -

"Hey." Bailey waves from behind Les's desk, where she's typing something up.

"Hey."

"Why are Herb's kids here?" She gestures at Junior, snoring under a parka on the couch.

"Their school is full of dead raccoons, and he had a meeting this morning."

"Oh." Bailey looks vaguely perplexed at that.

"Where's Les?"

"On an editorial tangent, actually."

"Don't tell me. The Chinese are attempting to infiltrate the Bengals again?"

"No, something about Soviet hog production statistics. He came in, sat down, mumbled a bit, then said this deserved an editorial and he was going out to pick up some doughnuts because he had to think. On the way out he was saying something about 'The BLT: Innocent Sandwich, or Communist Tool?' So, you know, incoming."

"Unexpected Nessman editorial. _That'll_ make Andy's day."

"Andy'll probably be in a meeting. I warned Jennifer about turning off the speaker in Mr. Carlson's office, just in case."

The coffeemaker hiccups its way to a stop. The carafe is leaking again, and Johnny just manages to avoid spilling any as he pours. "At least Les is bringing doughnuts. I'm pulling a double, so's Venus, makes lunch awkward."

"I'll probably be stuck here, too. Concert stuff. I'm waiting to hear back from about ten people at the venue, I've got to talk to McElroy's office about the ticket giveaway, and the way the furnace is acting, looks like it's time for the semi-annual Nagging of the Super."

"How else would we know fall's here?" Johnny turns the speaker up just enough to check the progress of the music. Pink Floyd has given way to smooth brassiness: Dolly Parton singing "9 to 5." "Hey, you want a bag of Cheetos? Just as a supplement?"

Bailey looks at him over the rims of her glasses. "Unopened?"

"Why does everyone keep asking that?"

The phone on Bailey's desk rings, and she darts over to answer (taking care to go through the line marking Les's imaginary door, not one of his walls, Johnny notes). "WKRP, this is Bailey. Oh, Jennifer. Okay, thanks for letting me know." She must notice the questioning look on his face as she hangs up: "I...asked her to call me when my dad and Carl showed up. Said if they asked, to tell them I wasn't available - which isn't a lie, exactly."

"Yeah, hope the rest of your weekend went better?"

"Once I got to the hotel. I ordered a pizza and then passed out for about sixteen hours straight. And when I woke up, I'd figured out what to do about some of the concert copy." She rolls the page out of the typewriter and hands it to him. "Here's for you guys to read on-air."

"'Get your mind and your speakers blown with the Enigmatic Bagels_'_?"

"Well, it's not brilliant, but brilliant isn't going to happen with this one." Bailey ducks her head just a little. "It _was_ 'Come get the noise,' but I thought that sounded too much like that one Quiet Riot song, you know?"

"Did I know you listened to Quiet Riot?"

"You do now."

"Interesting."

Bailey smiles - tiredly but genuinely, he thinks. "At least a computer should make this part of things easier. I'll have to ask Andy how he talked Mother Carlson around on paying for it. Hope he didn't promise her his firstborn or anything."

"Maybe he got her a good deal on replacement shingles for her gingerbread house."

Bailey laughs and resumes her spot behind the typewriter, just as Les comes back in, hat tipped back on his head and a long cardboard box under his arm. "Hello, Johnny. Say, do either of you know when Herb will be back?"

"Should be before noon." Johnny starts edging toward the door. The last thing he wants - especially at this hour - is a first draft of a Nessman anti-Commie rant.

"I'd like to talk to him. This 'Porker's Paradise' client sounds a bit peculiar. Don't you think 'purveyors of fine meat-like products' seems a little...un-American, somehow?"

"I dunno, Les. What's more American than questionable processed food? Think about it."

Les looks down at the doughnut box, brow furrowed, and Johnny's able to slip out just as Creedence starts jangling "Bad Moon Rising" over the speaker.

*********

Les comes flapping in with his tear sheets right as the ad segue starts at ten. He's mutter-rehearsing some opening line about "the nutritional specter," which is weird even for him, but Johnny's glad of it because it mean he can leave the booth without being roped into any conversation.

There's an unappealing sludge of coffee grounds in the bottom of his mug - _needs rinsing_, he thinks, _maybe next Andy can lean on Mother Carlson to get a bullpen coffeemaker that actually works right_. He should probably check on Herb's kids first, seeing as how he'd ended up with the de facto responsibility there.

He opens the bullpen door just enough to spot Junior still asleep on the couch (and Bailey on the phone with someone).

Andy's office door is shut. Maybe Bunny's decided to take a nap too, it _is_ a sleepy kind of day but maybe that's just him -

A man's voice from inside: "That's really pretty."

Bunny's voice, smaller and cheerful: "Yeah, it's some ducks swimming."

_What the hell? That doesn't sound like Andy - _

"Hey, how come you're not in school today?"

"There were dead raccoons."

"That's funny! What's your name?"

"Bunny. What's yours?"

"Carl."

And Johnny gets the door open as fast as he can at that.

Bunny is still sitting at the desk, coloring. Carl - sharp suit, hair combed back - has pulled a folding chair up next to the desk and is leaning over, watching her intently, and at least both his hands are visible but he's got something in one, it's the ugly pointy letter opener Herb gave Andy last Christmas, oh _shit_ -

"Hey, Bunny? Why don't you go out in the lobby? I've gotta talk to your - friend here."

"Okay, Mr. DJ!" Bunny scoops up her paper and crayons and darts out into the hall.

"Ask Jennifer if she's got extra drawing paper!" he calls after her.

Carl laughs, and _whoa,_ Johnny hasn't wanted to punch the laugh right out of someone's face this badly in _years_. "'Mr. DJ'? That's cute."

"Yeah." Johnny sets the mug down carefully on the table next to the couch. He's starting to shake. "Yeah, I hear you think kids are cute."

"Aren't they?" Carl puts the letter opener down on the desk and gets up. "You know, I actually thought about being a teacher at one point - "

"Okay, why don't you just explain this little...whatever the hell this was?"

Carl shrugs expansively, in the way that might actually be cute and disarming in a kid Bunny's age. "I was coming from the restroom, and I stopped to say hi to a nice little kid. I mean, what's the deal, buddy?"

"The _deal?_" And he finds himself stepping closer to the creep, probably not a great idea given that Carl's got several inches and about ten fewer years on him, but good decisions have never been his specialty and why start now? "The _deal_ is that you're scum, _buddy._"

"What are you talking about?" Carl is doing this wide-eyed-Bambi attempt, but something is just a little off about it, wrong around the eyes, that's usually how you can tell a faker -

Johnny lowers his voice enough so no one down the hall can hear. "Did you _really_ think Bailey would never tell anyone what you did to her?" Carl's Bambi-face freezes at that. "And now I find you shutting yourself in a room with our sales director's eight-year-old? The _only_ reason I'm not currently kicking your ass is because you're not worth getting arrested over."

"Hey, man - " Carl holds his hands up. "You're going on something _Bailey_ said? I mean - " he laughs - "Look, she was a great kid, but she'd do lots of crazy things to get attention, y'know? I guess she never outgrew that. You guys sure about her being a reporter? With needing accuracy and all - "

Johnny shoves his hands into his coat pockets - if this is going to turn into an actual fight, he wants this asshole to take the first swing, and he can't trust himself to wait otherwise. "See? That right there? An _innocent_ person's reaction would be, I don't know, something along the lines of a horrified 'no' and 'what the hell.'" His voice is getting louder. He's not sure he cares at this point.

Carl laughs again, a little hollow and brittle. "Well, I really don't know what to tell you, except like I said, she always used to do weird stuff for attention. She's got some issues, I guess that hasn't changed."

"That's how I know you're lying. You don't even _know_ her, do you? Bailey's the _least_ attention-seeking person I've ever known, like, too much so for her own good sometimes. And if she's got any issues, _you_ helped put them there, you - "

"Johnny? What are you doing?"

He follows Carl's startled stare to the doorway. Bailey's standing there with an armful of file folders, wide-eyed, and he's not sure he's ever seen her look quite this pissed off before. "Did - did I _ask_ you to say anything to him?"

"He was in here with Bunny, with the door shut."

A long, awful beat of silence, and then Bailey marches into the room, chucking the folders onto the couch and going right up to Carl. She's gone very pale, but her eyes are blazing.

"Did you hurt her?" Her voice is low and trembling.

Carl holds up his hands again and flashes that obnoxious smile. "Hey, whoa there, kiddo, I was just - "

"_Did you hurt her?_" Bailey's voice is just below a shout.

"I don't think he had time to do anything." Johnny's own voice sounds far away to him, deep in the weird hum you get in your mind when something really bad is happening.

Bailey stares at Carl. "I never - God, I never thought about - have there been others? Have you been - trying to go after other kids all this time, you son of a _bitch?_"

"You're delusional." Carl's face is starting to twist up.

"Oh, I guess you were just making _friends_ in here? Maybe reliving some memories? The special kind only perverts who grope eleven-year-old girls have - "

"_Shut up!_"

And Carl grabs Bailey by the upper arms and flings her sideways into Andy's desk. She hits it with a hollow ringing thud and staggers backward, then falls.

Johnny shouts and darts forward, but before he can grab Carl, Bailey's back up, lunging forward, stomping on Carl's foot so that he yells in pain. He stumbles, and she punches him at waist level, fist going in right under his ribs.

Carl gives a big hiccuping gasp, takes a step back, and then drops to his knees.

Bailey grabs the folding chair and brandishes it in front of her, lion-tamer-style. "Don't touch me," she growls, breathing ragged. "Don't you _ever_ fucking touch me ever again!"

Movement in the doorway: Venus and Les - they must have heard the noise - looking as frozen as Johnny feels. Then Les takes off down the hall, shouting for Andy and Carlson.

Carl is glaring up at Bailey, wheezing. "Gonna - have you arrested - "

"Well, that's funny, 'cause from what _I_ just saw, _you _attacked _her_." Johnny looks over at Venus. "That what you saw?"

"Sure looked like it to me." Venus comes in, so he's standing between Carl and the door. "You okay there, Bailey?"

Bailey nods, stiffly, still clutching the chair.

The sound of running footsteps in the hall, and then people coming in: Andy and Carlson and a bewildered-looking Mr. Quarters. Les, trailing behind, stops in the doorway.

"What's going _on_ in here?" Carlson is looking around like a puzzled bird. "We heard this _racket_ coming through the wall, and then Les came running in yelling something about a fight?"

Bailey just stares at him, so Johnny answers. "We - had reason to think Wonder Boy here was trying to creep on Bunny. We confronted him, and he attacked Bailey."

Andy turns to Carl, slow and deliberate, voice calm and drawl gone heavier, and somehow when he does that it's scarier than if he would just yell at people. "What's this about, Carl?"

"It's not _about_ anything!" Mr. Quarters is staying still - barely - but his voice is jumping with agitation. "Look, I don't know where you got the idea, but Carl would never - "

"Dad?" Bailey's voice is shaky but clear. "Carl would."

"_What?_" And Johnny could swear Mr. Quarters almost looks offended.

"He would. Because he did."

"Some little _kid?_ Honey, he couldn't have - "

"Don't you remember when I was eleven? And I tried to tell you he'd been - grabbing me and climbing on me - and he was mean, and - what'd you think I _meant?_"

Mr. Quarters looks at Bailey, then at Carl, then back. "Well - I mean, you - you were, y'know, an early bloomer, people can get confused, crossed signals - "

"_Crossed signals?_" Bailey's voice wavers horribly, and she takes a deep breath. "That - _that's_ what you told yourself so you wouldn't have to notice your nephew was raping your daughter? And then you brought him here, to - " She goes quiet, shaking, blinking hard.

There's a terrible gray hush that seems drawn-out, rubber-band-like, and then Mr. Quarters' voice, low: "Kiddo - "

"Sir?" Andy cuts in, deadly quiet, face expressionless the way he only gets when he's furious. "I think you'd better get the hell on out of here." He glances down at Carl. "Both of you."

Mr. Quarters sputters a bit, then turns away to help Carl up.

"I'll show you out." Carlson looks a little sick. "And, Mr. Quarters? The deal's off. Don't contact us again." He moves aside so they can go through the door, then follows. Les gawks wordlessly, then heads off after them.

"Dead air, _shit_," Venus says suddenly, and scrambles out toward the DJ booth.

"You two okay?" Andy asks, and Johnny's pretty sure they haven't had this much of a not-okay day here in maybe ever, but he just nods.

Bailey's just standing there, and as Andy goes behind his desk for the phone, Johnny is finally able to move and go over to her. She's still holding on to the chair, knuckles white, shivering, and she doesn't really look at him when he's in front of her - it's more like she's looking through him.

Johnny keeps his voice low and steady, the exact opposite of how he feels: "Bailey? Hey, you in there?" He tugs on the chair, just a bit, and her grip loosens enough that he can slip it out of her hands.

Only then does she blink and sag back against the desk, with a little sigh, and he puts the chair down and she slumps into it.

Andy, distant in the hum: "Hey, Jennifer? Our - guests - are leaving, can you call the first floor desk and have them trespassed from the building? Yeah. Yeah, everyone's okay back here. I'll explain later. Oh, and, hey, when Herb shows up..."

Grinding and drumming sounds drift in from the hall - _why_ did it have to be the Enigmatic Bagels Venus put on? It was probably the closest record to hand - and Johnny almost doesn't hear Bailey's voice: "I never said it out loud before."

He sits down on the floor so he can understand her, and she's still looking kind of spaced-out but at least now she seems _present._ "Said what?"

"That - word. I never - called it what it was before. It feels weird." A shaky laugh. "_I_ feel weird."

"Breathe a bit."

"Dad'll - " Bailey shakes her head. "He'll probably never forgive me."

"You're not the one who should be asking for that."

And she just looks at her feet, visibly trying not to cry, and he just looks at the elderly stained carpet because he has no idea what else to say.


End file.
